


The Detentions, Or, Five Times Severus Snape Caught Charlie Weasley After Curfew (And One Time He Didn't)

by afinch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 Times, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Gen, Other, Pre-Canon, Pre-Goblet of Fire, Pre-Relationship, Rare Male Slash Exchange 2017, Treat Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/afinch
Summary: Snape looks at Charlie and sees a lot of himself.Charlie looks at Snape and finds an unlikely friend.





	The Detentions, Or, Five Times Severus Snape Caught Charlie Weasley After Curfew (And One Time He Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MeganMoonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganMoonlight/gifts).



> CW for bullying by OC Charlie-aged characters.

The first time was his third at the end of the second Hogsmeade weekend, and Charlie was desperately avoiding going into the dorm. He'd heard Bill out for him, pulling his prefect powers to be out after curfew and find Charlie and bring him him, but Charlie had ducked into a dark alcove and gone unnoticed. Now it was just a cat and mouse waiting game for everything _else_ that patrolled the halls. He'd narrowly avoided Peeves twice now and a painting had alerted him to Mrs Norris ahead a corridor he'd been planning to go down. Charlie had decided midnight would be enough. Mick would be sleeping by then, and it would be safe.

"Well, well, what is this?" a quiet voice jolted Charlie from his thoughts. Charlie took a deep breath. Of all the people to be caught by, the cranky Potions teacher was probably near the bottom of the list. 

"And who are you with, did they run off, leaving you to take the fall?" Snape inquired, casting his wand about.

Charlie shook his head, "No, it's just me. I'm trying to avoid going in, see, no point in going in when you know a paste is in your future."

Snape smirked at this, "Not very brave for a Gryffindor, are you Weasley?"

Charlie's entire first year, Snape had called him Bill. Weasley was an improvement. 

"More smart, I think," Charlie said. "If I avoid it and wait til the numpty ones have gone to bed, they'll have forgot all about it in the morning and there won't be any fuss."

Snape seemed to regard this for a moment. "Not very brave at all," he said finally. "Very well. A test, then. Ten points lost and no detention if you go take your lumps. Or twenty points and immediate detention with me until I decide to release you." He leaned in, "And I warn you, I don't seek to release you until the sun comes up."

It was a curious test, and Charlie scrambled to figure out what the right answer should be. "Right then, I'm a coward," he told the professor, more than a hint of pride in his voice.

Snape didn't react to this at all and promptly swept down the hall. "Come," he declared, and Charlie followed quickly after him, nearly trotting at times to stay in pace with the man.

"You'll help with prep for the rest of the week," Snape told Charlie when they'd arrived in his office. "And every time you make a mistake, or yawn, or fall behind, that's five more points off. Is that understood?"

Snape laid out the process of the prep for his Sixth years, and it was complicated. Charlie was beginning to feel he'd made a terrible mistake. But he nevertheless nodded and started following Snape's instructions. He picked it up quickly, just as he had during his classes with Snape. It was tedious and slow, but anything was better than going back to the dorm.

"And why, Weasley, is this better than your dorm?" Snape asked.

Could Snape read his mind? Charlie looked at him, wide-eyed and in shock for a moment before stuttering out, "Well, well, cos Mick and the others were all ranking the girls they want to snog, and they asked me to, and I said zero to them all, because I don't want to snog any of them. Then Mick did his nut and said I was better than dead when we got back to the dorms, and I've been avoiding him since, and he'll forget all about it in the morning, he's a bit of a turd, I just have to make it till then."

"They were ranking girls?" Snape asked, his voice icy. 

Charlie might have been a coward, but Mick and the rest were still Gryffindors, and up Slytherin, even if he was peeved at his housemates. He shrugged, "It was naught. Just play."

"I see," said Snape, his voice still icy. "And the reason you didn't participate in this debauchery is because none of these girls hold your interest, not because of your opposition to ranking? If there had been girls you'd like to rank, you would have ranked them?"

Charlie was smart enough to know he was on thin ground, and he didn't want Snape mad at him during this detention. Still, the lingering thought that Snape could read his mind was a pressing thought. Honesty it was. "I don't know. I can rank the classes I like. I can rank which creature is my favorite. I can rank my teachers. I can probably rank my friends, but not enough to put someone at number one, except maybe Bill, but I don't even know how to rank girls. It just seems silly. If there's a girl, there's one, and you go snog her if she wants, and if she doesn't, you just go snog someone who does. I dunno why there needs to be a list about it."

Snape didn't challenge this, nor did he say anything other than a murmured, "Hrm." 

Snape kept him until the sky turned from a deep black to a light grey-blue, and dismissed him with a simple, "go," and Charlie gratefully and wearily stumbled back to the dorm, forgetting until his head hit the pillow that he didn't know how many points he'd lost total.

In the morning after carefully and artfully dodging the grim face of Bill, Charlie stood in front of the hourglasses. 

Gryffindor's total was exactly the same as it had been the night before.

* * *

The second time came in third year again, this time in Spring, after the Gryffindor/Slytherin match, in which Gryffindor had narrowly lost. Charlie was on a second floor staircase, hanging on weakly. His face looked, generously, like a piece of hamburg.

"If you're trying to jump, Weasley, the castle has protections," came the gloating voice of Severus Snape. "Much better to try the lake."

"Trying … to … find … hospital wing …" Charlie trailed off, turning towards the voice. He heard Snape gasp impatiently. 

"You're going the wrong way, and it's past curfew. Care to explain either of those?"

Compassion was not Snape's strength. Charlie tried for words. "Just … mad, I guess."

"And taking it out on yourself, or did you have help?"

"M'self," Charlie said despondently. Both of them knew it was a lie. 

"Daring, I suppose. Utterly reckless. Wanton display of self-cowardice. You will either give me the name or names of your attackers and I shall take you to the hospital wing consequence free, or you shall tell me nothing, lose ten points, and face another long night of detention with me."

Charlie shrugged in response, and both knew he meant the latter. Snape tutted and swept away. Charlie blearily followed, limping slightly behind.

"Dear child," Snape sighed when they'd made their way to his dungeon rooms. "At least tell me the others look somewhat like you. Let me see your hands."

It was almost kind, and it nearly knocked Charlie off his feet, but he swayed and stayed standing. 

"Oh, sit," snapped Snape. "And hands." He sounded irritable, but Charlie could tell it wasn't directed at him. 

Charlie meekly obeyed, relieved to be off his feet. He presented his knuckles, raw and bloody, to Snape, who held them gently in his own hands.

"Weasley, what best helps an open flesh wound like this?"

"Best is bloodmoss, you can distill it to a potion, but the raw moss is better." The answer was automatic. It was the same as for creatures. Really, a lot was similar in regards to healing broken things between humans and creatures. And Charlie knew creatures like the back of his raw and bruised hands. 

"Very good," Snape said, pressing the cool moss into the wounds. He grabbed a piece of cloth and wrapped it around Charlie's left hand. "Tell me how long to leave it on for and what the dangers of leaving it on too long are."

"Check after three, no more than five, and too much moss can leech into the blood, causing a toxic paralysis of the affected area," Charlie droned, almost verbatim from a text book. "The paralysis will spread if left untreated and can result in death."

"And how would I treat it if I left this on your hands until sunrise?" Snape asked, grabbing his right hand to treat and wrap it as well.

"You'd need some eel skin," Charlie said. His breath was slow and steady now and he hadn't realized that it hadn't been until the weight on his chest had lifted. "You make sure the affected area is above the heart and you apply the eel skin and then pour - pour - a cleansing draught over the skin, just enough to keep it wet. When it dries out, you keep applying the draught until it's gone. Repeat if the paralysis hasn't lifted, and keep until it does."

"Tell me how to make the draught," Snape instructed, while laying moss over Charlie's face.

Charlie intoned the recipe, aware that he couldn't see with the moss and the wrapping. It was helping though, already his hands were starting to feel less painful. He wouldn't need it on for very long at all. 

When Snape had finished, Charlie was basically helpless; blind, with giant mitts for hands.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Snape asked.

Charlie shook his head. "No, they jus-" and he stopped. "I just did the face."

"Alright," Snape said. "I have papers to grade. When I've finished, I'll make your draught. And then we'll test it when the sun comes up."

Fear thundered through Charlie. "Wait, what?"

Charlie could feel Snape's fingers lightly brush down his bandaged cheek. "I need to get some use out of you," Snape said, his voice silky smooth. "You can consider it your punishment for lying."

There wasn't anything he could do; he couldn't leave, he couldn't yell, and even if he did, what was the story going to be? He'd rather face this and not tell Snape anything than face McGonagall or Dumbledore and have to tell them how Ned challenged him to a duel after the loss, blaming him for catching the Snitch too early. Then he'd have to explain how Ned had showed up, declared it to be a wand-free duel, and the second Charlie had put his wand away, Ned's two friends showed up as well. It hadn't been a fair fight at all, and it was hurt worse by the fact that the boys were Ravenclaws, who were in serious contention for the Cup for the first time in decades. Slytherin's win meant Ravenclaw would have to beat Hufflepuff by at least 160 in the final match to stand a shot. 

There was, of course, more bad blood between the rich, elitist, pureblood Ned and the poor, accepting, pureblood Charlie than just a simple Quidditch game, but trying to explain that to _anyone_ would have taken ages. 

Charlie fell asleep to the rhythmic sounds of Snape's quill marking up student papers. He had something to say on every paper and the angry scritching proved to be a lullaby. When he woke, Snape was again running a finger down his bandaged cheek. 

"Come on Weasley, time to see if you're as smart at Potions as you are skilled at Quidditch," Snape said, his voice with a funny lilt to it, almost as if he were trying to say it in a sing-song voice and failing. Like he was teasing Charlie because he already knew the outcome and wanted Charlie to know it too. 

If Charlie had felt helpless before, he was helpless now, as the paralysis had set in up through his arms and all down his shoulders and back. Snape had deftly avoided his throat with the moss and he could still swallow, which he did. Several times. He swore he heard Snape chuckle. 

"No need to be worried if you're confident in your potion," Snape said. "Do you think you have reason to be?"

Charlie thought about this. "No," he said finally. "No, I got it right."

Snape placed Charlie's hands above his head - above his heart - and began the process Charlie outlined. 

"Do you care to tell me how you will know if it's not working?" Snape drolled. Even from under his bandages, he could hear that Snape was smiling. 

Charlie swallowed. "Pain." he said. He wasn't absolutely certain, but he knew if anything went wrong there would be pain. "A lot of it."

"Mmm," said Snape, and Charlie couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Neither of them said anything throughout the entire process.

Warmth spread down Charlie's arms after the second pour of the draught and he flexed his fingers. 

"Very good," Snape said. "You're quite skilled at Potions. It's a shame you're wasting your talent on less-worldly pursuits. It's a sharp bursting pain, when it's not working, by the way. A little more time at the books and less outside and you might have had it."

"I don't like being inside," Charlie protested, as Snape began work on Charlie's other hand.

"The glory of Quidditch is fleeting," Snape said. "And, as you have seen tonight, being skilled does not win you admiration from fickle fans."

It confused Charlie why Snape thought he wanted to go into Quidditch, but he wasn't sure if he should say anything. As Snape moved to his face, Charlie spoke quietly. "It's not Quidditch. I'd never get along with the guys well enough to be on a team every day like that. I just don't get people." It was a shocking admission from Charlie, but Snape had been kind tonight, and Charlie was responding to that. 

Snape peeled back the last layer from Charlie's eyes. His face was close to Charlie's, their noses practically touching. "Stop wasting your potential, then," Snape hissed softly. "Now, go."

The order didn't have to be given twice; Charlie practically shot from the room and ran all the way back to Gryffindor, hiding in his bed long enough to miss breakfast and let Ned think he was licking his wounds. Better in the long run to have Ned think he'd suffered than risk another argy-bargy over Ned's wounded pride.

He did manage to catch the hourglasses on his way to class; Gryffindor's total still held just above Ravenclaw's, and just below Slytherin's. Once again, Snape hadn't taken the points.

* * *

The third time it was his fourth year and entirely Tonks' fault. It was over Christmas hols and since Bill had escorted a very homesick Percy home, Charlie was the only Gryffindor student in the castle. McGonagall had forced him to tea _twice_ , and he was running out of things to talk to her about. You would think they could have talked about Quidditch all day, but she had the bloody notion to talk to him about career plans and if he should play for England first, or join up with a team. 

She was just another person he would eventually be letting down. So when the opportunity arose at breakfast to help Sprout and Tonks with some work in the greenhouse, he'd readily agreed, knowing it would cut into tea time. Tonks was his year, but he didn't know her well at all. She didn't play Quidditch, and they'd never been paired in classes together. 

"I know all about you and Marla," she told him at the greenhouses. "And you should know I don't tolerate cheaters very well, so we're going to have to figure out how to handle this."

Charlie was confused, "Marla Macmillan? She and I don't even - we didn't even - I haven't -"

Tonks was tapping her foot, impatient. "No," she said slowly, as though she were explaining something to a child. "You and Marla are dating. She said so. But everyone's seen you talking to Ronnie, and I saw you walking her out, hand in hand. I got you bang to rights and you should be ashamed of yourself."

"No, no, Ronnie and I - first of all, Ronnie's a sixth year and my brother is named Ronnie and I'd never - not that I want to anyway, we're helping Kettleburn with the knarls and we weren't hand-in-hand or anything and wait a minute, Marla and I aren't even dating." His head was spinning. This was why he didn't talk to many people. He opened his mouth and got into trouble. The only thing he was particularly good at was Quidditch, but after last year's loss, people didn't like him as much. Except McGonagall, but she had to like everyone. 

Tonks was unconvinced, "Why would Marla say you were dating if you weren't?"

Charlie was at a loss. "I don't know," he said miserably. "I really don't. I'm not dating her. Sometimes we sit next to each other in class-"

"Ha!" Tonks said triumphantly, as though this were vindication. "So _there_. Besides, you send her so many owls, I think I could recognize your owl on sight."

"I don't have an owl," Charlie said, irritably. "Bill and I share one and I almost never use it. He's the one that writes home all the time."

"Meet me in the Owlery after dinner," Tonks said. "And prove it and then maybe I'll believe you."

So after dinner Charlie ducked out of the offer of company from McGonagall and sped up to the Owlery, where Tonks, inexplicably, was already waiting. 

"Which one is yours?" she asked.

Charlie pointed to a small grey owl. "Bill calls him Sir Pence, I call him Mr Owl." He flushed as he said this. He'd been nine when Bill got the owl just before starting Hogwarts and Mr Owl had sounded a far better name at the time than Sir Pence.

Tonks frowned, "Hrm, that's not the owl that delivers to Marla. C'mon, help me find it." 

She began to look around the owlery, the owls gently hooting to her and she hooting back at them. 

"You're a bit mental if you think I'm going to help," Charlie said. She was a bit mental, period. "I showed you my owl and you should believe me now."

"I can't believe you until I find the other owl," Tonks said, again as though she were speaking to a child. "I gotta make sure it doesn't know you. That's the only fair way to do it." 

It didn't feel like the only fair way to do it, but Charlie didn't see that he had any other option than to agree. "Fine," he conceded. "What's this one look like?"

"Big. Brown. I'll know it when I see it," Tonks said, wholly unhelpfully. 

Great. A big, brown owl that Tonks would know when she saw it. That meant of the hundreds of owls in here, it could be … one of the hundreds of owls in here. They'd be here all night, at this rate. 

Sure enough, when the clock chimed nine pm, curfew, they were still no closer to finding the owl. 

"This is silly, and we have to go, we're out past curfew," Charlie protested. Knowing his luck, McGonagall would catch him and take fifty points off just for not having tea with her.

"We're almost done," Tonks said. "And you do want to clear your name, don't you?"

"Yea, yea," Charlie muttered. "But can we hurry it up or something?"

As Tonks was chiding him for being worried about being caught, she knocked over a feed bucket, panicking the owls and sending them squawking out the windows. Both of them heard a faint, "Hey, who's up there!" and without needing to be told, both of them ran. 

Tonks claimed the spawny ending. It really shouldn't have surprised him. This was his third time out past curfew and his third time standing face to face with a triumphant looking Snape. When Snape realised it was Charlie, he looked pleased still, but not as triumphant. There was almost a hint of confusion on his face.

Charlie threw his hands in the air, defeated, "I give up. Just take the points. I don't care any more."

Snape looked as though he wanted to say something else, then changed his mind and rattled, "Five for being out during curfew. Five for startling the birds. Five for foolishly not taking the tapestry to the hidden staircase that would have put you out near the kitchens, as I'm sure Nymphadora did, and ten for thinking the Owlery was a good place to have your Christmas romp."

"We weren't _romping_ ," Charlie said defensively. "We were trying to find a stupid bloody owl that doesn't even exist."

Snape arched a brow at him, "Five more for lying. Do you think you're the first Hogwarts students to try this? Do you think me stupid enough to believe a lie about finding an owl?"

Charlie felt his blood getting hotter, "I'M NOT LYING!" His voice echoed down the stone steps, setting a few portraits off into giggles. "Marla is saying I'm dating her and now Tonks is mad because Ronnie and I are helping Kettleburn and she says I'm cheating on Marla, but I'm not even dating Marla in the first place." He scuffed the ground with his foot. "So Tonks said she'd believe me if we found the owl that gives Marla letters, but it's not there." He kept scuffing the ground, and finally found the courage to look back up at Snape, "I don't get why I can't just talk to a girl without it being this whole thing. Maybe if I could've gotten it, it would be easier. But I'm not lying. Sir."

There was dead silence between the two of them.

"That is the stupidest story I've ever heard," Snape finally said. "It could only have come from a Gryffindor. Detention. Every remaining day of break, starting at 7am tomorrow in my chambers."

"Tomorrow's Christmas!" Charlie protested. 

"You should have thought of that before sneaking about looking for owls," Snape said. "I have a project involving dragon's scales and I need assistance. I was going to ask Kettleburn, but I'll let him and his remaining limbs have the breather they deserve. It will be intense work and you'll want to bring or borrow dragon hide gloves."

Charlie's temper had been barely holding on, and now he couldn't contain it anymore. "IT'S NOT FAIR," Charlie yelled. "I was only trying to - to …" he trailed off as Snape looked at him, looking bored of the tantrum.

"Trying to what?" Snape asked. "It seems you and I keep meeting under circumstances where you're trying and failing at something. What was it this time?" Charlie was too mad to hear how Snape's tone had dropped, how it wasn't sharp and hard, but firm and steady. Had Charlie not been so angry, he might have realised that Snape was being kind.

Charlie swallowed hard, certain Snape could hear his heart as it thumped inside his chest. He managed to barely hold onto his bravery and look Snape in the eye. His voice might have been timid, but it was the last little bit of defiance he had left, "Save myself future embarrassment, sir."

This seemed to sway Snape; he rocked back on his heels and looked Charlie over carefully. He was considering a younger version of himself, but there was no way for Charlie to know that at the time. "Fine." Snape said simply. "Seven am day after tomorrow. Not a minute late."

As Charlie walked back to his dorm, he tried to think of a story to tell his fellow Gryffindors that would sound even remotely believable coming from him. But every story came up short.

Not that he needed one. By the time students rolled back in from break, he'd earned five points for each day he'd helped Snape, and Becky James had cost a huge sum of points getting up from the train, and everyone was too furious with her to realise they were down ten more than they should have been. Even Marla had a new infatuation. Just to be safe, Charlie avoided both her _and_ Tonks as often as possible.

* * *

The fourth time Snape caught Charlie, Charlie at least had a Prefect badge pinned to his robes. The two of them stared at each other in the hallway, Snape looking confused and Charlie holding his ground firmly (at least metaphorically). 

"Weasley, it's not your night for rounds," Snape said dryly. "So pray tell, what are you doing bumbling around the corridors? Misusing your privilege?"

Charlie stayed firm, "No, I took on Sarah's shift."

"I thought I saw you skulking about yesterday, too," Snape continued. 

"I took Suresh's shift yesterday," Charlie said. He held eye contact with Snape, daring him to ask him why. 

"I see," said Snape. "Consider yourself guardian of the school, do you? Delusions of grandeur, how befitting someone of your … caliber."

Charlie didn't take the bait, but his face did get bright red. "It's better than sitting around in the common room or up in the dorm. They need someone to do it, and I don't mind." He left off the part where it wasn't exactly as voluntary as he was making it sound. He was lucky prefects couldn't take points from other prefects. One could be a prefect by default, as he was certain he was. Nobody else in his year was even remotely qualified for it, lot of dunders they were. He'd just made Quidditch Captain too, after McGonagall practically appointed him, but much for the same reason - there just wasn't anyone else qualified to do it. 

This wasn't a response that pleased Snape, though by now Charlie knew Snape would have only been pleased if Charlie had taken the bait and forced Snape to take points. "We will have to find a better use for your time," Snape said. "Come see me after you've completed a loop."

It left Charlie nervous his entire walk, but he still found himself walking through it quickly to get to Snape's chambers. He knocked softly on the door, "Sir?"

Snape didn't look up from his desk. "There is a stack of first year papers on your desk. Grade them, and then you may go do another loop."

All things considered, this wasn't the worst thing Snape could have come up with. Grading papers was something all professors had their students do in detention at some point. At least these were first year papers. Charlie moved towards the desk - his desk - and quickly read over the first paper. There was a pot of red ink and a quill there as well. The first paper Charlie was careful on, trying to get his handwriting to match Snape's slanted, angry lines perfectly. By the time he was halfway done with the stack, he'd given up and was chicken-scratching angrily, the same rate Snape was.

They worked in tandem, in silence until Charlie was done. Somehow Snape had never looked up, but knew when Charlie put the final paper on the completed stack. "Do another loop, then come back," Snape instructed.

"Yes, sir," Charlie said, hurrying out of the room. 

He was not surprised to return to a second stack of papers, these ones second years. He needed no instruction and began immediately. This stack went quicker this time, as Charlie got more comfortable with what he was doing. 

He paused at the last paper, which just happened to be Percy's paper. Of course he would have been given Percy's paper. Charlie spent a little more time on this one, finding one minor thing to correct before placing it back in the stack. 

"Bring it here," Snape said, holding out his hand as he scanned over a paper on his desk. It was like he had eyes atop his head and could hear Charlie's thoughts. It was unnerving. It was a skill Charlie desperately wanted to know how to learn. 

Charlie tentatively handed his younger brother's paper to Snape, who read it quickly. 

"I'd have given perfect marks," Snape said, thrusting the paper back at Charlie. "But you still pass. Every night you are assuming someone's Prefect duties, you will come here, first, and we will do as we have done today, until your last stack has been completed. I will not give permission for you to be out past Prefect curfew, so plan accordingly. Do I make myself understood?"

"Why are you doing this?" Charlie asked. "I - I don't understand."

"Which part do you need me to spell out to you as though you were a simpleton?" Snape said harshly. 

Charlie's shoulder's slumped in resignation, "No, sir, I understand all of it. I will come here, grade papers, do rounds, and I won't be out past Prefect curfew. At least, not with your permission."

Snape looked up, a wry look on his face, "Very well. Now, you have about three minutes to get up to the seventh floor. I'd hate for Peeves to find you after curfew."

"That's so _mean_ ," Charlie marvelled, more impressed than offended, before turning tail and booking it across the school. He plunged breathlessly into the Gryffindor Common room, the taunts of "STUDENT OUT OF BED, STUDENT OUT OF BED, WITTLE GRYFFINDOR OUT OF BED" echoing from Peeves into the thankfully empty room. 

The following afternoon, he listened to Percy bitterly complain to him and Bill about the "one measly point off just to be a jerk" that Snape had taken from his essay. From then on, he resolved that whenever Percy's paper - or any of his siblings, if he was still at this next year - was in front of him, he'd find something to dock a point for.

He was, after all, a brother, and this is what brothers did.

* * *

The fifth time was much like the second time, only this time Snape had the (mis)fortune of seeing the fight happen and the (mis)fortune of ending it. 

Bill had left the year before, and Charlie wasn't looking forward to two years in the school without Bill. People respected Bill and respected him by association with Bill. All Charlie had was a failing Quidditch team that just couldn't seem to win the Cup no matter how hard they played. Sure, he had top of the class marks on his OWLs, but that didn't make friends. Nor did being Prefect. Nor did not having a girlfriend, or any love interest at all. Being teased for being a ponce would have been better than being teased for not being able to get even a bloke to snog him.

The real surprise was that it had taken until early November for the powderkeg to finally blow. 

Mick was annoyed that his potential was being ruined by a poor loser nobody (to quote him). Charlie was Captain, which carried prestige, Prefect, which carried more prestige, and consistently called out as the top of the class, which carried the _most_ prestige. Mick was shuffling along, middle of the pack, and desperate to make a name for himself. Gryffindors had a thirst for greatness in equal measure to their Slytherin counterparts, but somehow Gryffindor made it look noble. 

Charlie was on his way to do rounds for Suresh, the same arrangement as last year sticking. He'd made it down the corridor to the main staircase when-

"We all know you say you're going to do rounds, but you go sit with that freak of a Professor," Mick called behind him. 

Charlie sighed and turned back. "You're out past curfew," he said. "If the Professors didn't think I was doing my duties, they wouldn't let me pick up rounds for other people."

"When you're in a relationship with one, you can get away with anything," Mick said. He pulled out his wand. And I don't think that's fair."

Mick left a lot of room for grandstanding, and Charlie had just enough warning to block his Bat-Bogey Hex. 

"Five points!" Charlie said angrily. "For attacking a Prefect. And we're NOT in a relationship! He's one of the best teachers here and you just refuse to see it because you don't like him."

He yelped in pain as he was hit by a Stinging Hex, but not from Mick. He whipped around and there were three friends of Mick's, including Ned, because of course Ned would be there. After the conking he'd given Charlie a few years back, the two had steered clear of each other, helped by Ravenclaw not being serious contenders for the Cup. 

Charlie gripped his wand tightly. One on one, he'd have cleaned the floor with Mick, and he probably could have taken on Mick and Ned - as Ned, while very smart, wasn't very practical - but a four to one fight wasn't a fair fight at all. Ned didn't fight fair, so Charlie shouldn't have been surprised. A wand fight was better than a fist fight though; they would use simple curses and hexes and Charlie was pretty good at defence. He'd been practicing, in case he ever came up against a dragon. 

The fight was short, Charlie deftly dodging blasts from the four boys, none of whom were throwing anything very powerful. It ended more out of boredom and a decent chance they'd get caught the longer the fight went on. 

"Come on," Ned called to Mick. "He won't fight fair and let down his shield. He's a coward."

Charlie did not lessen his grip on his wand. "Fine," he said to the group of boys, conceding the fight. "Everyone leaves now and I won't take any points."

"Stupid fight," muttered Mick, who turned to go back to the common room. "Next time you're not going to be so lucky, Weasley. Hope nobody takes it out on your baby brothers."

"You leave the twins alone!" Charlie yelled, taking a step towards Mick. "They haven't done anything to you! You want a fair fight? Pick on someone your own size. Or is the only way you can win a fight to attack two firsties?"

Just then Charlie realised two things: It had been stupid to turn his back on the retreating form of Ned and his friends and two, they weren't alone in the corridor.

The first spell hit him squarely in the back and the second the back of the neck. The third missed entirely, but none of that mattered as Snape roared - literally roared - and jumped into the corridor, his wand sending out bright white light that knocked everyone to their knees.

He didn't yell, and Charlie was grateful for that. The first spell had been a dousing of bubotuber pus, which would have been manageable, save for the second spell had been for some sort of boils, and the two were mixing to produce giant boils that burst when Charlie touched them, spilling out a hissing acid that burned his skin. He kept his head down, forcing himself to breathe as Snape talked.

"Let's see what we have here," Snape said coolly. "I think thirty from Ravenclaw for being out past curfew, fifteen for fighting, ten for attacking a Prefect, and five for Clark missing what should have been a direct shot. Ten from Gryffindor for being out past curfew, five for threatening two first years who could probably wallop you without trying, and oh, five for keeping me out of bed. Weasley, five for reckless behavior unbefitting a Prefect. Detention for all of you, I will inform your Heads as to when and where. Now off to bed. All of you."

Charlie still didn't move, but heard his classmates shuffle off awkwardly. Thirty total from Gryffindor was bad, but the sixty from Ravenclaw was going to be a bitter pill for them to swallow in the morning. 

"Weasley, do not make me take mor-" Snape stopped mid-sentence as he approached the wounded boy. He knelt by Charlie and his voice was tight, "Don't pop anymore. Your legs look unaffected, can you stand?"

Carefully, with Snape's help, Charlie stood. His back was raw, his robes ruined, his arms and neck covered in the painful boils as well. He didn't look at his arms. "I don't know what the second one is-"

"You should still be able to tell me what potion will treat this," Snape said. His voice sounded harsh, but Snape always sounded harsh. Charlie knew the question itself was Snape being kind. Truth be told, he appreciated Snape not being soft on him; he wouldn't have pushed himself if Snape had taken a gentle approach to things. Snape was being gentle though, as they walked at a slow pace away from the Hospital Ward, down to Snape's chambers.

Acids were acids, no matter where you were or what you were doing. "Dioxide Draught," Charlie said. "It will neutralise the reaction causing the burn. "A simple Soothing Draught will handle the pus."

"What if all I have is CS Mix?" Snape asked. His voice was still tight, Charlie noted, and it took him a minute to realise that Snape might actually be worried. Not worried enough to send him to the Hospital Ward, though. Worried about what, then? That Charlie wouldn't know the answer? Was this another test?

Charlie closed his eyes and only then noticed that he was crying. "Please," he begged Snape. "Please don't do that. It will cause a stronger reaction as it neutralizes. Instead of gentle, it'll be a burning, harsh process. Please. Dioxide Draught only takes a few hours to make, I can wait-"

"Stupid boy, I'm not going to make you wait," Snape said, and it came out gentle, almost an endearing scolding. "Instead, I am going to tell you what an idiot you are, letting those boys rile you up like that. Just when I think I've found an acceptable Gryffindor, you go off and prove yourself to be as hard-headed as the lot of them."

"Acceptable Gryffindor?"

Snape didn't answer, and Charlie didn't press it. They finally arrived at Snape's chambers. Snape pointed his wand at a low bench and muttered a spell; the bench padded itself, complete with a pillow. Snape helped Charlie lay on his stomach, then scurried off to find potions.

"Drink," he commanded, and he held Charlie's head as he gulped down the potion. 

Charlie put his head down wearily, and Snape made a tsk tsk noise. "You can spend the night here as the potion works. If you hadn't let your temper get the better of you with Mick, you'd have walked off scot-free, you know. Those twenty-five points are on you more than him."

"Are you going to make us all serve detention together?" Charlie mumbled. The potion was working, his skin felt like it was bubbling, but it wasn't burning and churning, like CS Mix would. This was the gentle neutralisation, the reaction of the Draught to the acidic pus.

To his utter surprise, Snape laughed. "They couldn't handle the caliber of what your detention with me will be."

Content with that, Charlie murmured his thanks, and was soon fast asleep.

* * *

The one time Snape didn't catch Charlie out after curfew, Charlie showed up unannounced at Snape's chambers. It was late seventh year, the day before the final Quidditch game of the year, Slytherin vs Gryffindor, and Gryffindor were actually favorites to win, and take the Cup for the first time since Charlie's second year. It would have been a career-guarantee for Charlie either way, having fielded offers to play for several teams. He was considered one of the best young Seekers in the field, and teams were desperate to entice him to join up. 

Charlie had other plans.

"I see, Charlie, that you've decided to save me the trouble of finding you this time," Snape drolled. He was working on a potion, carefully watching his cauldron with a handful of beetles at the ready. 

"Right, well, it would be the last time, sir," Charlie said, and Snape looked up briefly to see Charlie standing there, rucksack in hand.

Snape smiled and turned back to the cauldron, "You're going to the test in Romania. I'm certain they'll accept you. How ever did you get Minerva to sign the portkey permission form?"

Charlie shuffled a bit in the doorway. "Er, I didn't. I asked Dumbledore."

"She'll be furious."

"She'll be fine."

"She'll never forgive you for costing Gryffindor the Cup."

"She should have been nicer," Charlie said. Snape dropped his beetles in and gave the potion two quick stirs. Satisfied, he turned his full attention to Charlie.

"Nicer?"

Charlie shrugged, "I don't know. It's not even about the bullying, really. It's how she expected me to go into Quidditch, how everyone does. Same way they expect me to settle down and land a girl and give my mother grandbabies."

Snape raised a brow, "Still haven't found one who sets your fancy?"

"I do, but not in a - in a sexual way at all. I don't think I have the capabilities of liking someone like that." Charlie was nervous, but suddenly Snape was, too. Snape looked as though he understood perfectly everything that Charlie was saying.

He confirmed it, "I may know something about that. I lost the g- well, what does it matter? You don't have to go to Romania to get away. The apprenticeship in Glasgow with Merklin is still available. You could play your last game, sit your exams, and go on to greatness. I'd be right here to make sure you really did earn my recommendation. You've a talent for Potions, Charlie. You've a passion for dragons, but a talent for Potions. As I have learned, you cannot make a life of your passions, and it's better to settle for your talents early than be bitterly disappointed in the future."

Charlie considered this - all of it, there was so much to unpack from a few sentences - and shook his head. "No, I appreciate everything you've done for me. More than you know. But I've spent my whole time at Hogwarts trying to live up to people, and I've never hit that mark. Not even with you. Somewhere the expectations aren't so impossibly human is where I need to be."

"You ... proud Gryffindor," Snape said, and he looked disappointed. "You'll learn. Eventually. Now you'd better leave before someone McGonagall realises what's up. Merlin knows Dumbledore won't keep it from her for long."

"Yea," Charlie said, his throat tight. "Y'know, y'know I can't leave without this, but … but it's you. I mean, it's been you, I think. I don't-"

Snape held up a hand. He looked hard and cold, but Charlie knew it was an exterior, much as he'd built up his own. The two men stared at each other for a long while, neither of them saying anything. 

Charlie broke first, turning to leave. His fists were clenched in anger, but he didn't know why. How had he expected that to go? What did he even want from Snape? Not snogging. Not sex. Not anything except - except they had a deep connection, there was no denying that - maybe just not letting go of that was all Charlie wanted. It was certainly something he needed, a close relationship, something more than a friendship but not lovers.

"Well then, you'd better write," Snape said, and Charlie smiled though Snape couldn't see it. Snape had a knack for reading Charlie's thoughts. Always had.

"Yea," Charlie said, without turning around. "Someone's gotta teach you the effective uses of dragon scales in Potions."

As he walked down the hall, he thought he heard laughter.

* * *

* * *

* * *

**Epilogue:**

The letters weren't regular, but they were long and deep. Charlie wrote about his adventures in the remote potions lab at the reserve, and Snape doled out his advice. Charlie wrote his apologies for his twin brothers, and Snape mentioned how Percy scored top marks, minus a point here and there, but 'utterly without passion'. Charlie wrote of dragon scales and their emerging use in antidotes, and Snape sent him poison to test his theories on. 

Neither wrote of love, of want, of what their relationship was defined as. 

Neither of them needed to. 

Charlie would always have a deep affinity for Snape, even as he chased after his true passion, dragons, and Snape would keep his fondness for a Weasley a closely guarded secret.

When Charlie showed up back at Hogwarts four years later, he stayed in Snape's chambers, though the two of them never so much as touched each other. No, they spent their time stirring over cauldrons when Charlie wasn't attending to the dragons, both of them soaking up knowledge from the other. 

Charlie left with the dragons … and a rucksack full of vials from Snape.

He had so much work to do, in Romania.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to take the idea of Charlie as Mr. Popularity and turn it on its head. I also wanted to play with House characteristics and hopefully the subtle ways in which Charlie really is a Gryffindor come out.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed!


End file.
